Chapter 4: The mistakes you make are not easily fixed
~*o0o*~
Toby scowled down at the checkered table cloth they'd been using as a makeshift board. His sister picked up a ketchup bottle and moved it two spaces diagonally and one backwards, jumping over the coiled liquorice allsort.
The young boy squeezed the mustard bottle in his hand tightly, studying the 'board'. He made a tentative step forwards with his piece, still trying to fathom what he could possibly do next.
Sarah tutted loudly, "Are you sure you want to make that move?"
Toby threw his hands up in the air in exasperation. "This game's dumb. Nothing you do makes any sense to me."
Sarah grinned as she caught a glint of understanding in her brother's eyes.
"Oh. I think I get it now."
~*o0o*~
"How did you get in here, my pretty thing?" Jareth spat at her.
Sarah's thunderously echoing footsteps against the uneven stone flooring came to a stop.
The Goblin King looked livid. He turned enraged eyes to her, his mouth twisted into a bestial snarl of fury. Despite, looking like he was a hair's breadth away from attacking her, he took a step backwards, rather than towards her.
For half a second she considered running full pelt back down the corridor. There was no doubt in her mind that Jareth would chase after her. He'd probably catch her too.
"I was just looking around," she swallowed, "And a door appeared." She glanced around nervously, wondering whether the corridor stretched as far as the walls just beyond the gate to the Labyrinth. Row after row of dust streaked curtains hung at uneven intervals across the faded wallpaper.
"Did it?" The Goblin King replied, in a softer tone, somehow giving an even more dangerous impression. Without turning around he pulled the cord behind him, obscuring whatever he had been looking at on the wall before she had intruded.
"It's alright." Jareth's voice grew softer still, as he rearranged his expression into something resembling a smile. He still looked like he wanted to bite her, to tear great bloodied chunks of flesh from her throat. "You shouldn't be in here," he chided, "But I suppose that has never stopped you, has it my darling."
Sarah sucked in a sharp breath. He'd never called her that before.
"You came to find me?" He questioned, he moved nearer to her, stopping in unbearably close proximity.
"I wouldn't use those words," she managed to force out.
"You were barely using any words." His smile was a hateful mocking thing, wrapped up in just enough tenderness to make her bleed on the inside. "The Labyrinth loves you," Jareth conceded, almost sorrowful at the admission. "I fear sometimes it acts upon raw instinct."
"It can think?"
It wasn't an entirely surprising revelation. If a maze could change its shape and respond violently to any claims of its simplicity, it probably had a modicum of sentience.
What was more surprising was that it had a capacity for emotions. She couldn't think of anything she'd done down here that could have endeared the Labyrinth to her, unless it enjoyed being smashed to bits by her and her friends.
"Parts of it," he smirked.
Those helping hands were definitely sentient.
"What is this place?" It had a similar eeriness to it that the junkyard had held, as she picked her way through her treasured possessions to find something that really mattered. It didn't make sense that such a barren place could give the impression of being so cluttered.
There were countless things in front of her but she was stumbling around in a blind daze.
The dimly lit corridor had no visible end, and Jareth had been stood there for a long time, staring at the thing behind the curtain before he realised she had been approaching.
"What do you think it is?" He countered, his eyes held a trace of amusement; it seemed safer somehow that he was cast in this familiar patronising role of omniscient bastard than the one before.
"The door had the word 'Historia' above it. But it just looks like another long hallway." Sarah scrutinised the wall behind Jareth. "What's behind the curtains?" What are you hiding from me?
The Goblin King gave her a long contemplative look. Decisively, he walked over to the set of curtains next to the ones he'd been stood in front of and yanked the cord sharply; his long cloak swished out with a flourish, fragments of stars uncoiled from the swathe of cloth and sputtered out.
Sarah crept closer, feeling awash with surprise that the Goblin King had been protective of a painting of all things. Beneath it, there was a small wooden plaque embossed with a single word: Hope.
The background was painted a deep burgundy; an enormous flaming bonfire took centre stage as row after row of stunning people, adorned in armour in a myriad of colours and shapes, trudged up a melancholy mountain in varied states of exhaustion, to hurl books into the blazing fire.
She was close enough to touch the painting, but refrained from doing so; her hand hovered in the air above it as she traced the air over a familiar set of words belonging to the spines of book after book.
"The Labyrinth," she murmured.
"Yes." Jareth hissed. She dare not turn around to look at his face, but something about him set her hair on end. It awoke a primitive part of her brain that announced she was in the presence of something far stronger and more ruthless than she was.
"Tell me Champion, how do you kill a Kingdom of dreams?" His voice took on a contemplative tone, "A Kingdom of ever-changing potential and limitless form?"
What would it take? She wondered, in a way it was horrifying that so many different people, presumably of different Kingdoms and races had banded together in the singular act of destroying a story about the Labyrinth.
Just how dangerous is Jareth? It wasn't the first time she had pondered this.
He isn't dangerous to me, she insisted, is he?
He had never...hurt her. Not mentioning the snake, the drugging, the Cleaners and the Bog. Although, none of those things had actually harmed her per se, frightened and traumatised, yes.
Which is a form of harm, come to think of it.
"You stole my brother." It wasn't an accusation, just a statement of fact.
"You offered him freely." The Goblin King responded flatly, his breath, hot on the back of her neck. "I only did what is in my nature. But you haven't answered my question, precious. How do you kill a Kingdom built upon dreams?"
"You stop dreaming of it. You forget about it." Her own tone carried little remorse.
The King chuckled darkly; she spun around to watch an unpleasant smile stretch across his face like a knife gash.
"And so they did. They watched my Kingdom fade away into something less than a memory." Sarah startled as he wrapped a gloved hand around her arm, "I had no idea that a relic of my realm persisted Above."
It was almost as if he would lose himself in reminiscing without grasping her tightly as an anchor. Part of her wanted to comfort him, part of her wanted to shove him off. How do you comfort a King older than can be conceived of, a King who persisted off of something so intangible?
"My book," Sarah acknowledged. Cautiously, she lay her hand on top of the one gripping her arm. She couldn't begin to understand what it was to be whatever Jareth was.
Hope...hope of being remembered...hope of survival...
Such an innocuous item had diverted her path so drastically. Who would she be without the fairytale that accompanied her childhood, or the adventure that carved her into something stronger and sharper than she was before?
"You were the first to dream of me, in...I don't care to recall how long." Jareth's eyes burned into her, ice that wasn't melting but somehow branding her from the inside out. "The forests and deserts, oceans and stars swiftly followed suit, not to mention those nasty little river dwellers," he growled. "Oh but, when they remembered, their hearts were set on conquest of another kind." His sardonic snarl dropped away and his grip softened as she gently stroked the top of his gloved hand. What paltry comfort could she offer?
In a way, it was sickening to her core. Not one in thousands had called the Goblin King to take their errant sibling away. What did that make her?
What did it make all of the challengers?
"They all declare their intent for the throne, but that's only half of it," he continued with a wry twist of his mouth, "The Labyrinth isn't easily won over. It takes something spectacular." Jareth breathed, amused by the catch in her throat. He released her arm, sliding his fingers gently downwards until he laced them with her own.
"I'll do my best to protect you," Sarah promised fervently. Something in the air seemed to stir at her words and Jareth's pupils dilated noticeably as he tugged her closer to him.
"Champion, my Champion." Jareth sang, softly, "That was never a question. With wit or with force, you'll protect us of course."
That was all rather presumptuous.
And yet, Jareth had shielded her without question from the pursuit of Nessa. Did she not owe him the same?
Seriously though, who thought that hunting someone down with a bow and arrow was romantic? Maybe the Bog wasn't too much of a punishment.
"Why do you do that...the whole singing thing?" She gestured with her unoccupied hand. It felt unnatural to just burst into song without provocation.
I mean, life would definitely be more interesting Aboveground if people did it more often.
There was a glint of something angry in his eyes; it was quickly quashed before it could spark into something greater. "Words, written or spoken can be erased." Jareth replied carefully, "Song is another magic entirely, a rhythm, a melody, an intent carried beyond mere words. It transcends time and it shall remain long after the world falls down."
As the world falls down...
Where had she heard that before?
Falling...falling...falling in-
She screwed her face up in concentration but her limited memories provided no elucidation.
No, all she could unravel was a poignant melancholy she didn't wish to dwell on.
Jareth watched her intently for a long moment before releasing her hand with a sigh. Sarah felt strangely bereft and cast off-balance, like her concept of gravity had been irrevocably shifted. She had to force herself not to reach out to grab him once more.
"What was the painting you were looking at before I disturbed you?" What about it made you so enraged to think I had caught a glimpse?
Humour flashed across his face, "I think you could live without seeing it. This Hall of Records is home to many a curious reflection of History."
We may be working with a Dorian Gray situation. Her nose crinkled as she pictured the maggot infested visage of the eternally, achingly beautiful Goblin King.
"Am I in here?" She asked hesitantly. Was it conceited to wonder if she had a tiny spot in a hallway that stretched beyond as far as the eye could see?
"Oh yes, you've left your mark upon our walls," Jareth agreed, "An indelible one at that." His musing was brought to a sharp halt as he gave her a considering look. "Will you dine with me tonight, Champion?"
It had been over a year since he had last asked this of her.
"Sure." She smirked at the hopeful glint in his eyes. It was savagely destroyed as he watched her pull out a granola bar from her pocket. "I'll provide my own catering, thanks."
~*o0o*~
"What have you been up to?" The Goblin King regarded her curiously.
"You know what I've been up to," Sarah rolls her eyes, "Defeating every pretty knight and brave maiden that wishes to fight for your hand." She felt exhausted.
Sarah hadn't thought it possible to play eight repetitions of the same game in one day alone. By now she'd built up a bit of a reputation and the other Fae were curious about the new challenge she posed to them.
He smirked at her, "They want more than my hand." Jareth began to spin a new crystal, amused by her fascination with his actions. She'd never seen someone move with such grace and fluidity, as though the orb were an extension of him. "I was wondering what you have been up to Above."
Sarah gave an exasperated huff, seating herself opposite his desk. Her eyes landed on the strange, unfamiliar language on the book spines.
She caught a ribbon of gold, flashing through the orb for a moment as it caught the light.
Before her eyes, Jareth crushed the crystal. Gently, he blew the dust towards her, frowning at her instinctive flinch.
She'd expected it to be gritty and end up stuck in her eyes like sand on a particularly windy day at the beach. Instead, it settled across her skin, leaving a slight tingle as it made contact. Sarah's eyes flew open as a sudden surge of energy shot through her.
It was unlike the boost given by binge drinking cup after cup of coffee. It was something far superior to feel both rejuvenated and relaxed, without the irritating jitter of her limbs from the caffeine high.
"What was that?" She thought to keep the amazement out of her voice, less the Goblin King thought it perfectly acceptable to affect her with whatever magical substances he had on hand.
She still had an aversion to peaches.
"Just a refreshment," his grin was far too self-satisfied to come across as compassionate, "You won't let me feed you, and you refuse to rest between challenges."
"Refreshment?" Sarah sunk her elbows into his desk and leaned over threateningly, "If this is some kind of magical cocaine-"
"It won't hurt you," Jareth reassured her, "It's just ambient energy from my Kingdom. As you are so bravely defending it from unworthy suitors, you're entitled to reap some benefits."
It didn't sound terrible when he put it that way. She had been working non-stop to fend off his would-be-spouses. Privately, she thought even if she was beaten by one of them, she would continue to have a difficult time, thinking of any one of them as worthy.
Her nails dug into the polished wood as she maintained her suspicious gaze. "You can't just do that to people without asking them."
Jareth nodded dismissively. "I shall ask next time."
Next time?
"I'm serious, Goblin King." His face twisted into something sharp and lethal as she called him by his title. "Even if you think I'd like or benefit from something, you have to ask."
"And so I shall," he agreed, an edge of steel in his voice, "asking is simple enough."
Sarah fell back into her seat, shaking her head at his audacity. "Why do you want to know about my life, Above? The last time I complained about my day, you threatened to come up there and 'make things more interesting'."
The Goblin King sniffed, with a haughty jerk of his head, "I simply ask to know of your business, when it concerns me."
"My life doesn't concern you." A note of warning entered her voice. He takes up enough of my life as it is.
"Are you really sure you want to live alone, Sarah?" Karen's voice was savagely reproachful, "Just because your roommates have gone their own ways, it doesn't mean you need to live by yourself."
"I'm not lonely!" She'd insisted, "I visit my friends all the time."
"Why do we never see them?" Her father had asked, "You never even talk about them. We don't know anything about you anymore, it's like you're a stranger."
She violently shook memory from her mind, dwelling on how the lines between her life Above and Below bled into one another like the steady erosion of the sea against a cliff would only depress her.
The sea doesn't merge with the headland...it chips away piece by piece until the cliff falls into its depths, part of her corrected. That part of her had apparently been listening to too many of Jareth's morbid ditties.
She should really teach his Court something more entertaining to sing, like the Time Warp.
"You've been telling stories." Jareth's eyes gleamed with an atrociously unholy joy.
Sarah tried to feign an air of nonchalance; pride ballooned inside of her at seeing how evident Jareth's delight was. "Now and then," she confirmed, "The young children that visit the library I work at like to hear tales about goblins."
"Along with virtuous Champions and their wicked Kings?" He interjected cheerfully.
"Perhaps, I just like an audience," Sarah rationalised. "All those eager faces, watching me with rapt attention."
"As do I. Maybe you could consider singing to them."
"Not on your life."
~*o0o*~
The twenty-second time that Sarah played the Game with One Rule, Jareth was there to watch.
He sat beside her in the dirt.
It had been raining the day before so the mud eagerly painted his boots and seeped into his breeches. He barely gave his clothes a second glance, keeping his eyes, affixed to the board she had etched into the mud.
Opposite her sat Zella. The Fae was not of noble blood, nor dressed in fine apparel with servants waiting on her hand and foot.
She was a scholar.
In her hands, she held a notebook, tightly. Full of annotations and hastily scribbled notes.
"How very mortal," Zella commented, "To play a game with mud and stone. But I shan't underestimate you; I've heard of what you're capable of."
Labyrinth stone, Labyrinth mud...the words struck a chord inside of Sarah's palpitating heart.
"Are you ready?" Sarah asked, trying to keep the hint of apprehension out of her voice. No one had ever turned up to her challenges this prepared.
Zella nodded her head in short jerky motions. She brought a hand up to toy with a short curl of blond hair as she studied the board.
"I have gathered testimonies from witnesses to your challenges." The challenger spoke quietly; she placed an acorn down into a square framed with wavy lines. "Your attacks are varied but calculated," she continued.
"Didn't you ask the past opponents?" Surely they would be a more knowledgeable source of information. Sarah slid her stone to the side, hopping over the vertical twig and placing her piece next to Zella's acorn.
Zella looked up at her for a moment, eyes frigid and harsh. "They were unavailable for comment."
Maybe some of them truly were lovesick over the Goblin King, she thought bitterly. Probably weeping in their ivory towers over losing him. Yesterday he had swept into the throne room with a Queen on his arm, one with a tumble of auburn hair and eyes like quicksilver.
She had kissed him, aggressively, passionately, claiming to like his 'new look' before darting away to approach Sarah for the challenge. Jareth had been unruffled by her ardour, going as far as to press a soft kiss to the back of Queen Sirinelle's hand before departing.
His eyes hadn't left Sarah's throughout the exchange.
Part of her wanted to slap him.
Part of her wanted to slap some sense into herself.
She settled for sending Sirinelle into floods of tears as the Queen lost.
Didn't he care that she was-
That she was what?
Zella made a series of moves one after the other, encircling Sarah's piece with her own. She'd never specified that her opponent couldn't make multiple moves at a time.
The challenger paused for a moment, consulting her notebook with a frown and continued to jump her piece over Sarah's diagonally.
She could feel Jareth's eyes on her as she moved her own piece, scrutinising every action and weighing her up. Did he find her lacking? Sarah jumped her piece over Zella's and slid it towards the end of the board.
The next time Zella moved, Sarah hummed thoughtfully. "Are you sure you want to move your piece there?" Allowing a hint of concern to enter her voice.
Zella's pale cheeks flushed with embarrassment, "Oh, no. Of course not."
"I'll let you move it back if you like," she offered.
Zella nodded grimly in thanks and proceeded to form complicated spiralling movements with her piece, all the while desperately trying to discern what the Champion thought of her actions.
"I-I know what the rule is," Zella spoke, determinedly.
"I see," Sarah replied softly. She knew it was only a matter of time before someone figured it out. Hell, Toby had figured it out within five minutes.
Sarah looked up from the board at Jareth. But he wasn't looking at her this time.
Typical.
Oh, but she was glad that the Goblin King wasn't looking at her like that. Hate was not a strong enough word to describe the venomous loathing upon his face that he directed at Zella. It was lucky that Zella was so fixated upon the board.
Sarah could only wonder what it was about Zella in particular, that made Jareth detest the idea of having her as his Queen.
Certainly, he despised the pursuit for his throne, but he had never demonstrated such an abhorrence towards any one challenger. A challenger that hours ago he had kissed as soundly as any other challenger, and had whispered adoring words into her ear.
Jareth's hand snaked through the grass and found her own, interlocking his fingers between hers. She found that she didn't mind it. It was only right that they be here together to see it through to the end.
His hand felt right in her own, like it belonged.
It made something spiteful twist inside of Sarah to think of The Goblin King relying on Zella for protection, for comfort. For anything that was hers to give.
"The rule is that the correct pattern to play out on the board is one of concentric circles, five drawn clockwise, seven counterclockwise. The piece must then touch all four of the borders and cross the path of the other player exactly thirteen times." Zella concluded with a proud smirk.
Sarah was utterly dumbfounded.
"You couldn't be further from the truth."
A harsh rattling exhalation was released from beside her as the Goblin King squeezed her hand gently. At least he had learnt that much of sentiment in their time acquainted.
"Champion..." Jareth breathed, the word torn from him against his will. "I..."
"No, that can't be right!" Zella shouted, furiously flipping through her book. "I have the equation here." She thrust the notebook in Sarah's face; she gazed at the numbers and unfamiliar symbols with a complete lack of comprehension.
The relief was making her giddy; Sarah excitedly squeezed Jareth's hand back and tossed the book to the challenger. "I win."
The true victory was the vindication she felt when she drank in the relief pouring off of Jareth; his face had even softened into something vaguely resembling warmth and affection.
"What a shame," Jareth murmured, the softness melted away into something thorny and constricting as he turned accusatory eyes to poor, inconsolable Zella. "Will, I ever find a spouse, capable of besting my Champion?"
"Nope, Sarah grinned at him, popping the 'p' sound playfully. "Because I am the best."
If he was attempting to liquefy her insides with the way he was staring at her, he was doing a sterling job; it was almost as though he couldn't quite believe that she existed.
"Yes," Jareth whispered, his voice pained with sincerity as his exaltations poured forth, "I do believe you are."
~*o0o*~